Car Reviews

View Photos Marc UrbanoCar and Driver There’s an anodyne unpretentiousness to the updated 2020 Volkswagen Passat. It looks more distinctive than before yet doesn’t call attention to itself or announce much of anything about the person who owns it. It’s a plainly wrapped family sedan with modest performance and generous interior and cargo space. While […] More

From the February 1993 issue of Car and Driver. The sport of rapid propulsion requires the proper equipment: a good radar detector, knowledge of local gendarmerie methods, and, most important, a stealthy accomplice. Which, if you look around, is no longer easy to find. The Best Sedans of 2020 20 Best Cheap Performance Cars, Trucks, […] More

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Taylor-ConstantineCar and Driver

From the May 1977 issue of Car and Driver.
Everybody likes the Honda Accord. Each cynical road-tester we set adrift with the car returned a hopeless Accord fanatic. Even now, legions of Honda Accord zealots are touting it as everything from the ultimate urban-car to the super-est super coupe. So let’s cut loose and admit that the Accord is both a stunning achievement and, at a sticker price just over $4000, a stupefying value. Why, the Accord is the very thing we’ve been looking for.

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At first, the Accord might seem like just an­other transportation module cast in the famil­iar mold of front-wheel drive and hatchback, a Honda Civic with a thyroid condition. But a long list of standard features belies its heri­tage. Indeed, the long list of equipment fea­tured on the Accord might have been pinched from a far more elaborate and expensive automobile: five-speed transmission, rack-and-pinion steering, radial tires, AM/FM radio, tricky side-window defrosters and a hatch­back window wiper.

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Taylor-ConstantineCar and Driver

This grab bag of obligatory standard equip­ment may merely be some wily Honda sales strategy, but it seems to demonstrate an eminently sensible approach to automobile construction. In one mad stroke, Honda has invented an automobile that appeals not only to the vast middle ground of car-buyers, but to both extremes of the spectrum as well, the rationalists and the sports. Stripped-down, base-price cars, though the most rational of items, tend to attract a limited audience will­ing to endure bare-metal interior finishes and rubber floor mats. While the Accord’s size and gas mileage are wholeheartedly rational, Honda refused to cripple the Accord’s list of standard features in order to provide an affordable price. Building only one Accord mod­el simplifies the firm’s task, just as it did Henry Ford’s, but Honda then broadened the car’s appeal by installing all the luxuries.

In a Teutonic spirit of effi­ciency, every cranny of this Honda is functional, from the most informative of instrument panels to the tiny change tray installed in the dash.

The Accord marshals every desirable trend in small-car design. In a Teutonic spirit of efficiency, every cranny of this Honda is functional, from the most informative of instrument panels to the tiny change tray installed in the dash. The car’s 15,000-mile tune-up in­tervals suggest the ultimate in Japanese reliability. Responsive controls snap it around with the zest of an Italian sport coupe. And underneath it all, the comfort quotient is pure American: lots of interior space and seats with enough fore-and-aft travel to accommodate even really gross people.

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Taylor-ConstantineCar and Driver

Some dealers have reportedly taken advantage of the Accord’s popularity and bumped up their profit margins with outrageous preparation costs and other strategies, but Honda hopes that the 60,000 Accords it will bring into the U.S. in 1977 will solve the scarcity problem, reduce the waiting time (currently about three months) and bring the dealers into line. Evidently, the Accord’s success caught Honda without a reserve of production capacity, and the firm has been hurriedly converting Civic assembly lines to meet the demand.

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Taylor-ConstantineCar and Driver

Scuttling around in the Accord is guaranteed to bring a maniacal grin to the face of even the most hidebound rationalist. Darting past mail trucks and shutting the door on taxis is never a problem, thanks to the agile handling and hard-hitting brakes. You can even indulge in a little heavy yelling with Team­sters, backed up by the assurance that the Accord’s five-speed box permits a flashy getaway and shifts as positive as a ratchet from Snap-on Tools.
Perhaps more important than the Accord’s grins-per-mile and mechanical harmony, however, is the way in which it captures the thinking of Japanese automakers. Real value, Honda suggests, is more than merely a cheap price, and transportation is far more than a econobox. It’s the Honda Accord—the very thing we’ve been looking for.

Specifications

SPECIFICATIONS
1977 Honda Accord
VEHICLE TYPEFront-engine, front-wheel-drive, 4-passenger hatchback coupe
PRICE AS TESTED $4195 (base price: $4145)
ENGINE TYPE 4-in-line, water-cooled, cast-iron block and aluminum head, 1×3-bbl Keihin carburetorDisplacement: 97.6 cu in, 1600ccPower: 68 hp @ 5000 rpm
TRANSMISSION 5-speed manual
DIMENSIONSWheelbase: 93.7 inLength: 162.8 inCurb weight: 1980 lb
C/D TEST RESULTSStanding ¼-mile: 18.9 sec @ 70.0 mphTop speed (observed): 91 mphBraking, 70-0 mph: 208 ft
FUEL ECONOMYC/D observed city/highway: 28/34 mpg

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Dick KelleyCar and Driver

From the October 1995 issue of Car and Driver.
Ford’s Explorer has been gobbling the lion’s share of sport-utility sales for several years now, moving off dealer lots in numbers far greater than those of the second- and third-place offer­ings. That’s a fairly convincing display of marketing primacy, but check out this follow-up shot. It’s a V-8-powered Explorer, using a modified version of the pushrod 4.9-liter engine we know so well from the Mustang and other Ford vehicles.

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The reasons a V-8 is now possible for the Explorer are, according to Ford offi­cials, threefold. First, the Explorer got a new control-arm front suspension with its facelift for ’94, which made space for a huskier powerplant. Second, the adoption of the “Romeo” overhead-cam engine by the Mustang freed up production of the pushrod 4.9-liter V-8 at Ford’s Cleveland engine plant. Finally, there’s Ford 2000: a company reorganization intended to empower product planners and engineers to press on with projects without having to go through five vice-presidents for approval.
With the engine bay opened up fore-and-aft as well as side to side, the V-8 was shoehorned into a lower position than the V-6, allowing straighter driveshaft angles than with the 4.0-liter. To get enough clearance between the front of the engine and the Explorer’s radiator, Ford con­tracted Eaton to supply a “pancake” fan clutch to save space. Because the V-8 makes too much torque for the usual Explorer transmission, the automatic over­drive unit found in the T-Bird and Cougar was pressed into the role. And that required some modifications to the dash-panel tunnel for adequate clearance.
Having found a place for the V-8 in the engine bay, Ford engineers discovered a few packaging problems regarding induc­tion and exhaust systems. The exhaust clearance problem was dealt with by having tubular exhaust manifolding sweep upward from the ports before diving down below the dash panel. The manifolding is wrapped in a ceramic bandage to protect nearby lines and fluids from heat damage.
A GT40 inlet manifold was found to fit quite tidily on top of the V-8 and was adapted for the purpose, along with the basic GT40 cylinder-head pattern. Because of the peculiar exhaust layout, the sparkplug location was changed. Also, says Paul Guaresimo, chief product engineer, the new plug position helps stabilize engine idling.
Explorers are not sports cars, so various truck camshafts were tried in an effort to achieve the horsepower/torque relation­ship appropriate to the vehicle type. The figures came out as 210 horsepower and 280 pound-feet of torque.
The new engine-transmission added about 170 pounds to the front end of the vehicle, but the new power easily over­came that disadvantage. A little balancing of suspension values has produced an Explorer that feels no more nose-heavy than its six-cylinder sibling. In fact, Ford engineers found that the highest-rated springs for Explorer worked just fine when teamed with revalved shocks and thicker stabilizers.
The Explorer V-8 also gets Ford’s new C3 steering pump, which is quieter and more efficient than the previous unit. To cope with the extra torque being spun to the rear axle (the V-8 is available only in rear-drive vehicles for the moment), two pairs of rods anchor the rear axle to the frame to prevent axle windup. The result, according to Guaresimo, is a noticeable reduction in vibration.
As we discovered on a short preview drive, the V-8—powered Explorer has the easygoing responses that good torque provides. The V-8 burble during hard acceleration is very pleasing, and it dials back to an unobtrusive hum when cruising. You never have to get as deep into the throttle during normal driving as you do with the V-6, and the powertrain feels altogether effortless. There has been no discernible loss of maneuverability brought on by the 225-pound overall weight increase over the rear-drive six-cylinder Explorer.
In general, the Explorer has a more convincing upscale feel. Adding only about $1400 to the price, the V-8 model looks set to cash in on its V-6 partner’s success.

Specifications

SPECIFICATIONS
1996 FORD EXPLORER XLT V-8
VEHICLE TYPE: front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 5-door wagon
PRICE AS TESTED: $26,140
ENGINE TYPE: pushrod 16-valve V-8, iron block and aluminum heads, EEC-IV engine-control system with port fuel injectionDisplacement: 302 cu in, 4942ccPower: 210 hp @ 4500 rpmTorque: 280 lb-ft @ 3500 rpm
TRANSMISSION: 4-speed automatic
DIMENSIONS:Wheelbase: 111.5 inLength: 188.5 inWidth: 70.2 inHeight: 67.0 inCurb weight: 4450 lb
PERFORMANCE (C/D EST):Zero to 60 mph: 9.4 secZero to 100 mph: 40.0 secStanding ¼-mile: 16.8 sec @ 82 mph
FUEL ECONOMY (C/D EST):EPA city/highway: 14/19 mpg

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From the April 1990 issue of Car and Driver.
Sport-utility vehicles are nothing like Brussels sprouts, except in one respect: either you just naturally love the little beasties or you can’t quite grasp what other people see in them. Both of these views, as matters of personal taste, are entirely valid. And each, it turns out, is well represented within the ranks of the Car and Driver editorial staff. That’s a good thing, because it meant that a three-day, seven-vehicle expedition in the deserts and mountains of central Arizona would lead to spirited discussion, conscientious judgment, and clear-cut conclusions about today’s highly competitive crop of mid-size, four-door, all-wheel-drive sport-utility machines.
Fans of these truck/station-wagon hybrids applaud the vehicles for their ruggedness, their go-anywhere capability, and especially their wide-ranging versatility. You can load these machines with anything from mothers-in-law to mining gear and head off for the corner store or the Continental Divide. Three-quarters of a million new sport-utility vehicles (SUVs) found homes in 1988, and the buyers were a diverse lot that included hard-core truck guys and family types looking for a safe and roomy sedan alternative. The category shows every indication of continued growth too, with more buyers, more models, and more marques (even Oldsmobile, for heaven’s sake) flooding into the marketplace.
At the same time, skeptics are absolutely right when they observe that almost all SUV drivers spend most of their time on perfectly good paved roads. Many modern four-wheel-drive trucks never see a mud bog or a rocky stream bed in their lives. And if it’s just snow you’re worried about, well, there are four-wheel-drive passenger cars at almost every price level. So in a real sense, these do-anything SUVs have compromised their on-road ride and handling in favor of a task they perform only rarely. Maybe never. Is that a sound approach to engineering personal transportation? Is it a reasonable concession to make in purchasing a family car?

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DAVID DEWHURST

Those inclined to like SUVs will say, sure, it can be a good trade-off—if the engineering is carried out skillfully enough. Those unenlightened to SUVs’ innate appeal will say, I dunno, these things still have to function as automobiles.
And that gives us the makings of a revealing comparison test. How do SUVs function? How well have they been engineered? How effectively have various manufacturers handled the compromises? In short, how do the players in this league really stack up, by hard-nosed road testers’ standards?
We put seven editors in seven SUVs and sent them out over 350 miles of freeway, back road, dirt track, and creek bed to get the answers.
Our field comprised the seven SUVs that fit between the lightweight Sidekick-class funmobiles and the prestigious Range Rover-class heavy hitters. We specified four doors, six-cylinder engines, and automatic transmissions across the board. In alphabetical order, here’s the group: the Ford Explorer Eddie Bauer, the GMC S-15 Jimmy SLX, the Isuzu Trooper LS, the Jeep Cherokee Laredo, the Mitsubishi Montero LS, the Nissan Pathfinder SE, and the Toyota 4Runner SRS. And here they are again, in the order that emerged after our editors had their way with them and scored them on their overall goodness.

Seventh Place: GMC S15 Jimmy
For the 1991 model year, General Motors’ popular SUV has grown a second pair of doors, and it comes in your choice of badges: GMC, Chevrolet, or Oldsmobile. Obviously, it offers increased space and versatility over the two-door version, but it still doesn’t feel finished to us. The 4.3-liter Vortec V-6 puts out good power (160 hp, the second-highest rating of this bunch), but it’s a rough son of a gun that manages to be unobtrusive only at light-throttle cruise. Any other time, from idle to full grunt, it feels and sounds like a V-8 with two plug wires pulled—not surprising, considering that it was created by slicing a pair of cylinders off GM’s 350 V-8. The Vortec V-6 is also one of only two engines in this group (the other being the Trooper’s GM-supplied 2.8-liter six) that still have their fuel injectors up in a throttle-body instead of right down in the intake ports.
Compared with its two-door siblings, the four-door Jimmy’s 6.5-inch-longer wheelbase (to 107.0 inches, the longest in our group after the new Ford Explorer) gives it a much smoother, calmer highway ride—one that compares well with the other SUVs in this test. But that’s the easy part. As soon as the surface turns rough, rutted, or rocky, the S-15’s chassis behavior gets ragged, with more leaping and banging than we’d like.

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DAVID DEWHURST

Most of us judged the Jimmy’s basic driving position to be very good, but we were also in agreement on two negative scores: the seats are too flat and uncushioned, and the instrument cluster should have simple, readable dials instead of swoopy video displays.
To its credit, GM has blessed its four-door SUV with anti-lock control for all four brakes (the ABS works in two-wheel-drive mode only). In this group, the Cherokee is the only other vehicle to offer four-wheel ABS (its system is able to work in full-time four-wheel-drive mode); the Explorer and the 4Runner have rear anti-lock brakes, the others no ABS. And GM has still held the Jimmy’s price, at just over $20,000 as tested, solidly in the bottom half of this field.
So, yes, there is something to like about the bigger Jimmy: it fulfills the SUV’s basic promise of versatility. But even a brief look around this competitive market makes you wish the world’s largest automaker had focused its vast engineering resources on engine and chassis refinement instead of on gas-gauge graphics.
1991 GMC S15 Jimmy SLX160-hp V-6, 4-speed automatic, 3938 lbBase/as-tested price: $17,291/$20,500 (C/D est.)C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 12.6 sec1/4 mile: 18.8 @ 71 mphTop speed: 102 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 223 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.66 gC/D observed fuel economy: 17 mpg

Sixth Place: Isuzu Trooper
One of the first SUVs to offer four doors and one of two—along with the Montero—of the “high boy” utilitarian school, the true-blue Trooper goes about its chores diligently and puts smiles on the faces of its many loyal supporters. But as other, newer players have entered this game and pulled the standards for the class toward more carlike comfort and refinement, the Trooper has begun to look a little agricultural.

DAVID DEWHURST

On the upside, the Trooper’s tall, boxy shape is highly efficient—it has lots of capacity in relation to its footprint on the road—and is especially generous in the headroom department (though its tight 65.0-inch width is less considerate of elbows). With its emphasis on the utility side of SUV talents, the Trooper is a tough and capable off-roader that seems more and more at home as the terrain grows rougher. Also, everyone liked its silky, variable-assist power steering and the smoothness of its 60-degree V-6 engine (though more sheer urge would be nice). And the Trooper is obviously well put together and neatly—if somewhat simply—finished.
Unfortunately, the pavement ride is a little stiff, the tall profile gets to heeling in the corners, and there’s just no pretending this is anything but a truck. With the second-lowest sticker price of the bunch (undercut only by the remarkable Explorer), the Trooper represents fine value, particularly to those buyers who actually envision a significant amount of off-pavement duty for their SUV. For most others, however, something more carlike probably looks better, and Isuzu agrees: the Trooper will shortly be retired in favor of a wider line of more modern sport-utility wagons.
1991 Isuzu Trooper LS160-hp V-6, 4-speed automatic, 3938 lbBase/as-tested price: $17,291/$20,500 (C/D est.)C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 15.6 sec1/4 mile: 20.8 @ 66 mphTop speed: 92 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 235 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.65 gC/D observed fuel economy: 15 mpg

Fifth Place: Mitsubishi Montero
The Mitsu and the Trooper have nearly identical box scores, and for good reason. They are kindred souls, both taking the “civilized farm implement” approach, accepting the aesthetic minuses along with the space-utilization pluses that entails. Thus many of the Trooper’s general comments also apply here. A markedly stronger engine (with no sacrifice in smoothness) raises the Montero’s daily livability, though, and allowed it to nose ahead of the Trooper.

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DAVID DEWHURST

Almost every driver commented on how comfortable and quiet the Montero was in freeway cruising, and everyone found it sure-footed off the pavement as well. A few nits were picked, though: the driver’s seat (a controversial suspended unit that gets to pumping up and down on certain rolling bumps) should slide back a bit farther to accommodate long legs, the truck-style manual-adjust outside mirrors seem rather retro, and dirt-road running set up a fair old ruckus, between interior rattles and suspension racket. Then there were the expected concerns over the bolt-upright seating and tippy cornering that are part of the deal in the tallest vehicle of the bunch.
The Montero still has its inclinometer, which most of us find either amusing or bemusing. It also has the largest sunroof in this universe, allowing back-seat passengers to stand up on a whim and give the crowd a regal wave.
1991 Mitsubishi Montero LS160-hp V-6, 4-speed automatic, 3938 lbBase/as-tested price: $17,291/$20,500 (C/D est.)C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 13.4 sec1/4 mile: 19.2 @ 71 mphTop speed: 94 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 216 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.68 gC/D observed fuel economy: 16 mpg

Fourth Place: Jeep Cherokee
When the masses want to apply a term—generically and lower case—to what they consider an off-road vehicle, “jeep” is the name they use. And that tells you something. By acclaim, the Cherokee is a tough, do-it-all wagon, and the whole world recognizes its heritage. But this has become a tough battlefield, and the tactics are changing quickly. So even if the Jeep is in some way the standard-bearer for this class, the charge is now running well ahead of the colors.
On paper, the Cherokee has a lot going for it: the strongest engine (177 hp), the lightest overall weight (3652 pounds), and four-wheel ABS. Its transfer case is also the only one in the group with an interaxle differential, which permits running in four-wheel drive on hard, grippy surfaces without disengaging the ABS or straining the driveline (useful when conditions are changeable between wet and dry or clean and dusty). And most of the Jeep’s logbook entries praised its ride and handling, its structural integrity, its ability to put power to the ground whatever the surface, and its general comfort. Apparently, its reliance on a solid axle up front, the only nonindependent front end left in this group, did not handicap the Cherokee. Instrumented testing confirmed our impressions: the Jeep took a bunch of top honors-0 to 60 mph in 10.5 seconds, a 107-mph top speed, 17.7 seconds at 76 mph in the quarter-mile—and a solid second-place 0.70 g on the skidpad.

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DAVID DEWHURST

But we had some reservations, too. The overassisted, zero-effort, zero-feedback steering comes out of another era—and should go back there as soon as possible. The front seats, reminders of the Franco-American Renault Alliance, are really only comfortable for passengers who fit within their snuggish shape. The Cherokee’s back seat is cramped and particularly hard to climb into because of the intrusive rear wheel wells (a result of the very short wheelbase). The instrument panel has started looking awfully old. Our Cherokee avoided being the most expensive vehicle in the group by a mere 164 bucks (thanks, Toyota). And the old fears about the small bits’ reliability have not been put to rest: our driver’s-seat recline lever came off, and the spare-tire fixing nut continually backed off.
It seems proper that the venerable Cherokee finished dead center in our ratings. From there, it anchors the field, pulling the stragglers along as it keeps the leaders in sight.
1991 Jeep Cherokee Laredo177-hp inline-6, 4-speed automatic, 3652 lbBase/as-tested price: $19,601/$25,615C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 10.5 sec1/4 mile: 17.7 @ 76 mphTop speed: 107 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 213 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.70C/D observed fuel economy: 16 mpg

Third Place: Toyota 4Runner
Here we’ve moved into the subgroup of modern sophisticates, and the talent deepens as the competition intensifies. Imagine a comfortable, fully equipped sedan that has been given compact-station-wagon proportions and then been jacked up in the air to take a “tough truck” stance. That’s Toyota’s 4Runner.
One liability of the layout is an unnaturally high floor, which demands an athletic climb into the cab and provides a low-seat, feet-straight-out driving position that feels odd at first. The look, too, doesn’t please everyone. Toyota may have correctly identified its customers’ preferences, and certainly we have no quibble with the rounded and cleanly contoured sheetmetal, but the sky-high image just isn’t us. We seriously doubt that a two-inch drop would rob much real ground clearance, and we think it would greatly improve the 4Runner’s appearance and convenience.

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DAVID DEWHURST

A back seat that cramps adults was all anyone found to complain about inside. Otherwise, the Toyota’s gracefully styled and supremely readable instrument panel, its fine quality of materials and assembly, and its high level of equipment (a CD player, even) made this the most attractive interior of the bunch.
For chassis performance, the 4Runner earned a high B-plus. Wheel motion seems well damped over washboard surfaces, flexible enough to walk through deep ruts and reasonably well isolated on the highway, but the 4Runner clearly falls a bit short of the high ride-and-handling standards set by our winner.
Everyone wished for more engine power, too, and the 4Runner’s highest of the high as-tested price of $25,779 hurt it in the value judging. But all our drivers enjoyed being at its wheel, and most commented they could live with the tall Toyota quite happily—but for the presence here of two other vehicles.
1991 Toyota 4Runner SR5150-hp V-6, 4-speed automatic, 4187 lbBase/as-tested price: $19,518/$25,779C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 15.7 sec1/4 mile: 20.7 @ 66 mphTop speed: 95 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 220 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.63C/D observed fuel economy: 16 mpg

Second Place: Ford Explorer
Being new doesn’t always mean being best, but Ford’s Explorer is the only truly new vehicle in this class, and it does claim several key distinctions: it has the longest wheelbase (111.9 inches), the heaviest curb weight (4336 pounds), the most spacious seating, and—get this—the lowest sticker price here (a carefully estimated $19,400). True, it has a lot of Bronco II pieces under its skin, but the Explorer is so fresh and so good in ways the Bronco II never was that you don’t care where Ford got the hardware.
A new 4.0-liter version of the old Cologne-built 2.9-liter V-6 powers the Explorer—and moves the hefty machine very effectively, with a touch of vibration now and then but plenty of response. The transmission feeds torque through the neatest-to-operate transfer case we’ve ever seen, which simply has two soft-touch buttons on the dash: one to engage four-wheel drive, the other to select the 2.48:1 low range.

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DAVID DEWHURST

Suspension bits recognizable from the Bronco II provide a soft, luxurious on-road ride, which still manages not to go completely to hell off the pavement. The Explorer does feel weighty and can float around a little on dirt roads, but the chassis swallows impacts well and maintains good poise. Steering that borders on being too light and too isolated nevertheless works just fine.
To a man, our test crew raved about the Explorer’s spacious, well-designed, and neatly trimmed cabin. You sit low behind a high dash panel, but a very low beltline and tall windows keep you from feeling that you’re in the bottom of a bucket. And that panel carries a cluster of legible instruments right where you want them. Perhaps best of all, everywhere you touch the thing—seats, controls, door panels—you’re rewarded with a quality feel, thanks in some part to the leather-lined luxury of our Explorer’s Eddie Bauer trim package.
This handsome new Ford fun wagon almost looks as if it should run with the big boys in Range Rover Land, yet it drives easily and lightly to the touch. Think of it as an SUV limousine, an up-to-the-minute interpretation of what these machines are supposed to be good for. Particularly at the price, Ford appears to have nailed one here.
We learned a few things out there in the Arizona desert. The SUV sympathizers on the staff were reminded that, attractive as the general concept may be, execution still makes the difference. Even if all these SUVs offer ruggedness, versatility, and incredible off-road abilities, some of them still flat embarrass the mud flaps off the others.
Those among us less predisposed to appreciate the SUV experience found out something, too: that some of these compact wagons can indeed be pretty neat to drive. Again, however, engineering counts: if you don’t intend to go driving off road, some of these vehicles will feel grossly compromised to you—but others may not.

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DAVID DEWHURST

The good news is, with competition improving the breed even as we watch, there is real engineering excellence to be found in the hot sport-utility market. For proof, go take a drive in a Nissan Pathfinder, over every kind of road, near-road, and non-road you can drum up. If you haven’t driven a modern SUV lately, you will be surprised.
You may also be surprised if you’re a sport-utility manufacturer who hasn’t been paying close enough attention or moving rapidly enough. And you know who you are. Buyers in this market may be dedicated to the unique SUV formula, but don’t push your luck. Even die-hard Brussels-sprouts eaters will walk away from last week’s servings.
1991 Ford Explorer Eddie Bauer155-hp V-6, 4-speed automatic, 4336 lbBase/as-tested price: $17,000/$19,400 (C/D est.)C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 11.7 sec1/4 mile: 18.2 @ 75 mphTop speed: 106 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 206 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.64C/D observed fuel economy: 16 mpg

First Place: Nissan Pathfinder
No one in this test hit the mark the way Nissan did. The original two-door Pathfinder set new standards for style and drivability among SUVs, and now this one paces the four-door field.
The new Pathfinder perhaps looks less striking than its two-door sibling, if only because it lacks the two-door’s distinctive triangular rear-quarter windows. But we still like the crisp, folded-paper contours, especially the way they hunker down on the big General Grabbers. Inside, the similar rectangular forms of the dash panel are no longer as modern as when they first appeared, but we can live with that, especially because the instruments are so readable and the small controls so silky in their action.
Chassis refinement, though, is where the Pathfinder really racks up its points, delivering an astoundingly high level of grip and maneuverability on pavement and then proving to be almost perfectly dialed in for fast scrabbling on fire roads or bounding over rocks and stutter-bumps. Its logbook filled with praise for its ride and handling, no matter the surface or speed, and then the Pathfinder went and aced the skidpad test with a class-leading 0.74 g. So Nissan’s little marvel straddles barriers—between car behavior and truck behavior, between highway handling and rough-road aplomb—better than anything else we can think of. There is real brilliance evident here, and someone, probably the guy in charge of shock damping, deserves a medal.

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DAVID DEWHURST

In other areas, the Pathfinder scores a solid “good” or better. Its mildly tuned 3.0 V-6 keeps the vehicle at least mid-pack in our performance tests, and it runs smoothly and economically on the road. The steering requires a little more effort than most of the others’ but feels much more positive for it. And Nissan’s body structure sounds as solid as any here. The whole package exudes quality.
At $23,354, the Pathfinder is hardly inexpensive, but it’s only the third-most-costly SUV in our test. And anyway, the best always costs. In our scoring, the Pathfinder won more categories than any other vehicle—in addition to squeezing past the impressive Explorer in the all-important Overall Rating. (See Editors’ Ratings chart for an explanation of our scoring procedure.) The Pathfinder really can do it all, without the compromises we generally expect. It almost takes the notion of SUV versatility to an absurd extreme: most anyone could live happily with the thing in daily running on public roads, then be surprised to find—one day when the main road to town washes out—that their machine can practically climb a tree if they ask it to.
1991 Nissan Pathfinder SE153-hp V-6, 4-speed automatic, 4209 lbBase/as-tested price: $21,079/$23,354C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 12.0 sec1/4 mile: 18.7 @ 72 mphTop speed: 99 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 211 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.74C/D observed fuel economy: 17 mpg
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From the November 2001 issue of Car and Driver.
In May 1996, I drove a prototype CR-V to the U.S. 500 Indy-car race at Michigan International Speedway. This particular Honda had come straight from Japan, with right-side steering and a dash littered with the sort of symbols a large chicken might inadvertently peck in the dirt. It drew gawkers – including CART aces Bobby Rahal and Jimmy Vasser.
“I’m thinking of getting one just like this,” gushed Vasser of my little CR-V.
“Me, too,” informed Rahal. “Except mine will be quite a lot nicer.”
“Yours is gonna be, what, red with a five-speed manual?” asked Vasser.
“No, no,” corrected Rahal, pointing at the steering wheel. “I’m getting one that doesn’t belong to the post office.”

2015 Honda CR-V EX FWD Tested

2008 Honda CR-V EX-L 4WD

As it worked out, the CR-V would figure in both drivers’ lives, though not mailmen’s. It enriched Rahal, who owns a Honda dealership, and it annoyed Vasser, who owns a Toyota dealership. Since then, the CR-V has evolved into a gold mine on wheels – the bestseller among entry-level SUVs in ’98, ’99, and ’00. That dominance might have continued, too, were it not for the arrival of Ford’s pesky Escape, which recently whupped the CR-V right out of first place by a heady margin. The Escape, you may recall, also won our dwarf-SUV comparo last March – in which, alas, the CR-V finished fifth. Honda knew this was coming, of course, and has thus been readying a second-generation version, different in detail if not in substance and execution.

Honda

For starters, the 2002 CR-V’s four-cylinder engine generates 160 horsepower versus the ’97 CR-V’s wimpy 126 and the ’99 CR-V’s 146. Plus, it now bats out 162 pound-feet of torque – more torque than horses, you’ll notice – at a relatively low 3600 rpm. How? More displacement, up from 2.0 liters to a pot-walloping 2.4. It’s now among the largest of modern four-bangers and possessed of a reciprocating mass commonly known to do three things: (1) shake the car on startup, when one of those largish slugs fails briefly to fire; (2) shake the car at idle, especially with the air-conditioning compressor at max drag; and (3) shake the car at all other times.
Honda has somehow avoided all three, in part due to a pair of balance shafts that are integrated within the oil pump; in part due to four beefy engine mounts, two of them liquid-filled; and in part due to engineers who spend their spare time hanging around guys like Rahal and Vasser.

Highs: Honda steering, Honda shifter, Honda fit and finish.

Step-off is no longer a high-rev, clutch-slipping affair. In fact, you can launch in second gear with only 1500 rpm on the clock. Shift from first to second at six grand and you’ll bark the tires. There were plenty of 90-degree city turns that, taken in second gear, caused the old engine to lug. Now there’s enough torque to negotiate about half of those turns in third. Course, Jimmy Vasser wouldn’t.
The second-gen CR-V scoots to 60 mph in 8.4 seconds. That’s a second quicker than its forebear and comfortably below the 9.9-second average we logged among those 11 automatic Lilliputian utes last March. It’s also 1.8 seconds quicker than an automatic Toyota RAV4, the vehicle that 28.3 percent of CR-V buyers “cross-shop” first. Still, the major payoff is this Honda’s newfound perkiness for the first couple of seconds in each of the lower gears, where it’s now way happier to lunge and squirt its way into holes in traffic.
It’s also bigger, though not by much—an inch longer and 1.3 inches wider. That’s still enough to induce noticeable new roominess inside—2.7 extra inches of rear legroom, 3.6 inches of front shoulder room, and a cargo volume up 4.8 cubic feet. The pewlike rear bench is now a contemplative perch for three. It’s slightly raised so that you can see over the front riders’ noggins, and the middle man can stretch his legs between the front seats, at least when the flip-down coffee table is at half-mast. Throughout the cabin, the floor is as flat as a telemarketer’s pitch. What’s more, the 60/40 rear seatbacks can be folded flat without removing their headrests — an engineering feat for which a Nobel category should be created. With the rear seats folded, the cargo bay is 55 inches deep and 38 inches at its narrowest, seven cubic feet beyond what a Ford Escape offers and sufficient to swallow my hugely desirable Univega Land Rover One.

Lows: Bicep-building hand brake, limited off-road potential, as fragile as a car.

One advantage of diminutive SUVs is their acceptable handling, and this revised CR-V is no exception. For one thing, the classic Honda shifter offers the sort of short, light throws you’d praise in a Prelude. Beyond 50 mph, the newly relocated steering rack now locks onto straight-ahead like Thor gripping lightning bolts. There’s surprisingly little roll for a vehicle nearly as tall as a Toyota Sienna, such that the pilot begins making odd pronouncements: “good pedals for heel-and-toeing,” for instance, which isn’t a phrase commonly associated with SUVs. The ride is firm but rarely choppy. And with its new rear discs, this CR-V can stop from 70 mph in 192 feet.
The radio is mounted high—two inches above the dash, in fact—so that it’s always in your line of sight. The glass in the cargo door now pops open independently. A liberal load of sound-deadening “melt sheets” has mitigated wide-open-throttle roar by 6 dBA. There’s again that damnably cute fold-out picnic table capable of serving a hungry family of one. And there’s a new pistol-grip hand brake that pulls out of the center stack like some sort of railroad siding switch. It frees up floor space, but it’s a high-effort device that sometimes requires both hands. It’ll be hell to explain to teenage parking valets, who’ll think it’s part of a lavish video game.
Prices aren’t firm, but Honda’s best guess is $19,440 for a front-drive LX; $21,440 for an automatic four-wheel-drive LX; and $22,940 for the manual EX tested here. The latter includes four-wheel drive, ABS, side airbags, a sunroof, alloy wheels, and a CD changer.

The Verdict: A lean, thoughtfully engineered errand hopper that won’t bankrupt you at the pumps.

This round-two CR-V may not exactly drip with personality—it’s still a tad more functional than fun—but it’s improved in all areas that matter, and it certainly represents guilt-free SUV ownership. It is the anti-truck: a unibody passenger car on stilts, an errand hopper with a kind of lean quick-wittedness, great visibility, 23-mpg observed fuel economy, and 8.1 inches of ground clearance in case you attempt that treacherous trek onto a baseball diamond to retrieve Jimmy’s catcher’s mitt.
Plus—did we mention this?—it’s built by Honda.
Counterpoints
I had two problems with the original CR-V: its wimpy motor and its goofy, gawky styling. Problem one is duly resolved, with sufficient torque to chirp the front tires in third gear and to generate a tiny bit of torque steer, even in this four-wheel-drive version. Remarkable. The restyle is less convincing. Oh, there are butch bull-bar cues molded into the plastic bumper; the plastic grille’s shape suggests it was welded of robust chrome steel tubing; and the continuous swath of A-pillar, roof-rail, and taillamp plastic suggests a Land Rover Defenderish exoskeleton. I just don’t buy any of it. The look still says veggie burger when I’m in the mood for a Brawny Lad. —Frank Markus
So how much power is enough in the cute-ute biz? The new CR-V delivers useful gains in horsepower and torque, and even though the second generation is a smidge heavier, the gains are tangible when the driver tramps on the throttle. Other upgrades: more room, more refinement, more clever storage touches, better access to the rear cargo area, better handling. And the integration of the emergency brake into the center of the dashboard is one of those why-didn’t-anyone-think-of-this-before design innovations that are uniquely Honda. Still, with 200-hp hot rods such as the Ford Escape charging around out there, the question persists: Will 160 horses be enough? —Tony Swan
Everybody thinks of the Honda CR-V as a compact SUV — one of the first that popularized that category. And it quickly became the class sales leader because the CR-V is not that small. In its original form, for example, the CR-V had a bigger back seat than did a three-door Chevy, a Jeep Grand Cherokee, or a Toyota 4Runner. With this newest version, Honda has slightly expanded the CR-V’s excellent package, slipped a far more muscular engine under its hood, and tightened up its ride and handling. All of this has been accomplished without losing even a single mpg, which should be enough to keep the CR-V near the top of the sales heap. —Csaba Csere

Specifications

SPECIFICATIONS
2002 Honda CR-V EX
VEHICLE TYPEFront-engine, all-wheel-drive, 5-passenger, 4-door wagon
PRICE AS TESTED (C/D EST)$22,940
ENGINE TYPEDOHC 16-valve inline-4, aluminum block and head, port/direct/port and direct fuel injectionDisplacement: 144 in3, 2354 cm3Power: 160 hp @ 6000 rpmTorque: 162 lb-ft @ 3600 rpm
TRANSMISSION5-speed manual
CHASSISSuspension (F/R): struts/semi-trailing armsBrakes (F/R): 11.1-in vented disc/11.1-in discTires: Bridgestone Dueler H/T, P205/70SR-15
DIMENSIONSWheelbase: 103.2 inLength: 178.6 inWidth: 70.2 inHeight: 66.2 inPassenger volume: 103 ft3Cargo volume: 34 ft3Curb weight: 3367 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 8.4 sec100 mph: 26.7secRolling start, 5–60 mph: 8.6secTop gear, 30–50 mph: 9.8 secTop gear, 50–70 mph: 10.1 sec1/4 mile: 16.6 sec @ 84 mphTop speed (governor limited): 109 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 192 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.72 g
C/D FUEL ECONOMYObserved: 23 mpg
EPA FUEL ECONOMYCombined/city/highway: 23/21/25 mpg

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From the December 1996 Issue of Car and Driver.
What’s faster—cars or motorcycles? Among serious motorheads, arguments about that have raged since 1885, when Gottlieb Daimler invented the world’s first motorcycle powered by an internal-combustion engine and Karl Benz invented the similarly powered car.

1995 Supercar Olympics: Which One is the Fastest?

The Quickest Cars We’ve Tested, From 1955 to Today

In pure acceleration, motorcycles have been leaving cars in the dust for a long time. Back in 1973, the then-new Kawasaki Z-1, with its muscular and refined four-cylinder 903cc engine, could blur through the quarter-mile in 12.6 seconds with a terminal speed of 106 mph. Today, only the most powerful cars, such as the Porsche 911 Turbo and the Dodge Viper GTS, can trip the lights in a shorter interval. Which does them no good at all since you need both hands to count the modern motorcycles that are capable of 10-second quarters.
Speed on the road or on a track, however, demands more than just slingshot accel­eration. A fast vehicle must also keep pulling to a high top speed, be able to stop repeatedly in a short distance with excellent control, and corner rapidly enough so that it isn’t always dissipating hard-won speed.

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RICH CHENET, BRIAN BLADES

Even more critical is how easily the person in the saddle can segue from brake-scorching deceleration to tire-howling cornering to traction-threatening acceleration. Despite the motorcycle’s advantage in pure acceleration, evidence suggests that, in the broad spectrum of performance, cars have their merits.
A few years ago, for example, I wrote a column (C/D, September 1993) about keeping up with a rapidly ridden Suzuki GSX-R750 on winding Angeles Crest Highway outside of Los Angeles while driving a BMW 740i sedan laden with four adults and a week’s luggage.
That was not a fluke. Back in August 1977, then Car and Driver executive editor Steve Thompson, who was as pro­ficient on two wheels as he was on four, found that he could circulate Lime Rock quicker in a Pontiac Trans Am than on a Kawasaki KZ1000 (1 minute and 11.9 seconds vs. the bike’s 1:12.5).

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RICH CHENET, BRIAN BLADES

What would the result be in 1996? To find out, we called our pals at Cycle World and proposed a shootout. We would arrive on the West Coast with a new Dodge Viper GTS coupe for a con­test of speed at Willow Springs raceway and also on Angeles Crest Highway with the motorcycle of their nomination ridden by the staffer of their choice. They answered the challenge by sending CW executive editor Brian Catterson with a 1997 Yamaha YZF1000R, the newest sport bike from the company that also crafts fine pianos and helps Ford design and build Taurus SHO powerplants.

To no one’s surprise, the Yamaha easily put the Viper on the trailer at the drag strip, with a quarter-mile run of 10.4 seconds at 132 mph. The Viper’s 12.3 seconds at 115 mph—the best of any cur­rent production car that we’ve tested—seemed snaillike in comparison.
The physics underlying the Yamaha’s advantage are simple. The 3600 pounds of Viper GTS and driver are propelled by 450 horsepower. In other words, each pony is carrying 8.0 pounds. With a com­parably weighted pilot, the Yamaha weighs only about 700 pounds. Therefore, each of its 135 horses is burdened with only 5.2 pounds. In acceleration, the power-to-weight ratio is everything. Making the most of this advantage, how­ever, isn’t easy with two fewer tires.
Coaxing the best from the Viper is simple. Rev the engine to precisely 2400 rpm—any lower and you’re slow, any higher and the wheelspin never stops—and drop the clutch. Shift as quickly as you can a tad before the 6000-rpm redline, and you’ll be running through the traps just after catching fourth gear. No bleach burnouts. No power shifting required.

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RICH CHENET, BRIAN BLADES

The Yamaha requires a more special­ized technique. With its short wheelbase, high center of gravity, and sledge-hammer thrust, the YZF1000R can easily wheelie itself right over on its back. The proper technique requires that the rider lean way over the bars as he launches the bike with a delicate balance of clutch slip and throttle control. Even with a burnout to enhance the traction of the Yamaha’s sticky Dunlop Sportmax II rear tire, a hard clutch engage­ment would easily spin the rear skin and eat up precious seconds. If you can reach the 11,500-rpm redline in first gear without flipping over, the rest of the run is easy.
In top-gear roll-on tests, the Yamaha’s power-to-weight-ratio advantage is further leveraged by its short gearing. With a high-revving engine and no worries about gas-guzzler taxes or CAFE economy numbers, the YZF1000R is geared shorter in its fifth and top gear than the Viper is in third. As a result, in top-gear roll-ons, the Yamaha is three times as fast as the Viper with its fuel-conserving, super-tall sixth gear.

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RICH CHENET, BRIAN BLADES

Stopping is also a motorcycle strong suit. With triple disc brakes, light weight, and extremely sticky tires, the Yamaha stops from 70 mph in 154 feet—18 feet more efficiently than the Viper. Although neither machine is equipped with anti-lock control, the motorcycle has the advantage of controlling its front and rear brakes sep­arately, allowing an expert rider to serve as a human balance bar. We experienced slight rear lockup, suggesting the Viper would have benefited from some sort of brake-balance adjustment.
In contrast, on the skidpad, the Viper is the easy one to drive. It generates its peak cornering force of 0.96 g without great drama, signaling its approach to the limit by gently running wide. Ease off the throttle, and it promptly tightens its line without any dramatic twitches or tail swings.

RICH CHENET, BRIAN BLADES

Motorcycles and their riders view skid-pads with the fondness that Dracula showed toward sharp wooden stakes. With a very fine line between breaking traction and breaking bones, and no Consumer Reports—style outriggers for security, Catterson passed on this test. Judging by the segment times at Willow (see map), we suspect the bike’s skidpad performance would have come close to the Viper’s.
In the simple, controlled world of the test track, the YZF easily took the Viper. Real-world pavement, however, is far more complex and challenging.

We joke around the office that Angeles Crest Highway between its origin at La Cariada–Flintridge to its conclusion at Big Pines 55 miles later has more curves than the entire state of Michigan. With terrific pavement, virtually no side roads, and rel­ative freedom from traffic, particularly far­ther down the road on an early Tuesday morning, it was here that we met for the open-road portion of the test.
Catterson and I mapped out a course of six miles and agreed that we would absolutely not violate the road’s center line. Because the mountainous terrain pre­cluded both radio and cellular-phone com­munications, we placed timers at each end of the course. We flagged off the car, then one minute later the motorcycle roared off.
At the finish, the Viper beat the bike by 12 seconds, which translated into a four ­percent-faster speed for the Viper.

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RICH CHENET, BRIAN BLADES

With its prodigious cornering ability and benign behavior at the limit, this per­formance did not require any pins-and­-needles driving. In fact, I only squealed the tires in the slower curves because sliding a machine capable of 0.96-g cornering ability at high speeds is more terror than thrill on a public road where you don’t know what lurks around the next bend.
The Viper steered beautifully with excellent stability on the fast sections, combined with an eagerness to hurl into corners fast and slow. And between the tilt steering wheel, the fore-and-aft-adjustable pedals, and its comfortable seat, I was able to find an excellent driving position. The seat also provides good lateral support at the shoulder level, which combined with the narrow footwell to keep me in place during hard corners.
Although the 6000-foot altitude sapped some of the V-10′ s strength, the 8.0-liter engine pulled strongly to its 6000-rpm red­line, even if it sounded labored over the last 300 or so rpm. But truth be told, it felt almost as strong at 3000 rpm. There are no critical downshifts in this car, which is a good thing because the shifter is not a won­derfully precise instrument. With gears one, three, and five, placed slightly left of gears two, four, and six, I missed a shift on occasion.

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RICH CHENET, BRIAN BLADES

The Viper’s brakes also gave me some cause for concern. Halfway through the six-mile run, the big discs faded, particu­larly in front, producing some rear lockup while slowing for the tighter corners. At the end of the run, the front brakes were smoking like two doused campfires. Although they demanded a heavier push as they faded, they retained their excellent feel throughout the run.
The bike, in contrast, suffered absolutely no brake fade and shifted with the precise snick-snick that no car short of a paddle-shifted Grand Prix racer could hope to match. It also accelerated prodi­giously along the straights. But in the cor­ners, Catterson clearly couldn’t keep up with the big Dodge.
That’s because when you’re on a motorcycle, an intimate relationship with an orthopedic surgeon is only as far away as a sprinkling of sand around the next blind corner. In the corners that he could see around, Catterson cornered hard enough to leave streaks of rubber from his rear tire and his knee pad to mark his path on the pavement. On blind corners, how­ever, his wise and necessarily more con­servative posture cost him time.

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Other than having 20 valves apiece, the Viper’s fuel-injected pushrod V-10 and the Yamaha’s carbureted twin-cam in-line four have virtually nothing else in common.
RICH CHENET, BRIAN BLADES

Catterson was also put off by having to start the run on cold tires and by the slip­pery-looking pavement sealer in a few cor­ners. With four fat tires under the Viper, neither problem caused me concern. Under the more repeatable and controlled cir­cumstances of the racetrack, however, there would be fewer such confidence-sap­ping variables to slow Catterson down.

Willow Springs is a fast track. The lap record around the 2.5-mile circuit is 1:06.05—an average of 136 mph. We wouldn’t approach that clip, but it is clearly a track that rewards speed, a com­modity that both these machines have in abundance. The plan was simple. We would both take a few short sessions to familiarize ourselves with the track, then run five laps for time. Fastest lap wins.
We set the Viper’s tire pressure at the normal 29 psi and checked its vital fluids but otherwise did nothing unusual to pre­pare it for the track. In contrast, the motor­cycle boys mounted a set of race-com­pound street tires on the Yamaha. Now we were complaining, but Catterson pointed out that the standard tires on the Yamaha were so soft that they would overheat almost immediately, resulting in such prodigious slides that the tires would be worn out after the five laps. He insisted that the new skins he was installing were needed for safety. In the interest of avoiding bloodshed—his—we grudgingly agreed.
We need not have been concerned. Although the Viper threw a rod after only three of the five timed laps (likely caused by grit in the oil gallery of this prepro­duction example), it turned a fast lap of 1:33.8. That was 2.5 seconds quicker than the Yamaha’s best.

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RICH CHENET, BRIAN BLADES

As on the street, the Viper was an easy and forgiving partner around the track. In the high-speed turns, it pushed to gently let me know I was approaching its limit. In the slower section from Turns Three through Six, taken in second gear, I could use the Viper’s prodigious torque to bring out its tail with micrometer precision. Even the tricky transition from Turn Eight to Nine, where the Viper had to be slowed from nearly 130 to about 95 mph in mid-corner, the Viper inspired confidence.
The Viper’s only real weakness was its brakes, which, not surprisingly, fried even more here than they did on the street. By the third lap, I was regularly locking rear wheels as the front brakes faded. Even trailing the brakes into the corner, how­ever, did nothing to upset the Viper’s bal­ance. In fact, throughout the track session, I never put a wheel off the pavement. With a few more laps, I’m sure I could have shaved another two seconds from the Viper’s time.
The Yamaha looked terrific on the course as Catterson dragged his knees in the corners and the bike barely kept its front wheel on the ground cresting the rise in the middle of Turn Seven. But Catterson complained that Turn Four was dusty and slippery (I hadn’t noticed), and he was also bothered by the crosswinds in the fast Turn Eight–to–Nine combination (again, not a problem for the Viper). The track times bear this out to some extent, but the Viper’s advantage was only 0.2 second in these two corners. Perhaps the more important difference was the Viper’s advantage in high-speed acceleration.

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Catterson looks like a medieval knight in his racing leathers, which are equipped with knee, elbow, and spine shields, and replaceable knee pads.
RICH CHENET, BRIAN BLADES

At the end of the front straight, the Viper hit 138 mph before I applied the brakes for Turn One. That’s 4 mph up on the Yamaha. Given its 23-mph top-speed advantage (177 vs. 154 mph) and its shorter 100-to-120-mph acceleration time (2.3 vs. 2.6 seconds), one can conclude that despite the motorcycle’s advantage in acceleration from a stop, above 110 mph, the Viper is quicker. At a track like Willow Springs, that’s a critical advantage.
The Viper’s speed advantage shrank from 4.4 percent on the road to 2.6 percent on the track, primarily because the uncer­tainties of the road favor the more for­giving car. Given a tighter track on which the average speed was slower than the 96 mph achieved by the Viper, the motor­cycle, with its more energetic midrange acceleration, might actually be able to beat the car. If the track is too tight, however, we would expect that the car’s superior ability to transition from braking to cor­nering to accelerating would put it on top again.
A word to wise two-wheelers: Unless you select a very narrowly defined track test, racing against a car with your motorcycle remains a losing proposition.

The Two-Wheeled View: Live Without a Net
“Never underestimate the competi­tion.” That’s what I wrote 100 times on the blackboard in Cycle World’s conference room, my penance for getting smoked by a lowly car.
Like most of my colleagues, I’ve never had much of an appreciation for cars. Race cars, sure—especially now that we have four-time motorcycle world champion Eddie Lawson to cheer for—but not street cars. On the rare occasion that I do drive a four-wheeled vehicle, it’s likely to be a truck—the better with which to haul motorcycles, you see.
The Viper changed all that. I mean, here’ s a car that makes over three times as much horsepower as a hot bike; that goes and stops and turns with comparable verve. Most impres­sive of all, however, is how easy it is to drive the Viper fast—provided you can put its $73,000 asking price out of your mind, that is.
Conversely, motorcycles are much more difficult to ride fast—and a lot less forgiving. Csere crashed a car going 220 mph at Bonneville last year and walked away. I crashed a bike at 100 mph at Road America and went to the hospital with a broken pelvis.
Given the inherent risks, it takes a lot of confidence to ride a motorcycle at the limit. And so it follows that when conditions aren’t optimal, the rider’s confidence—and thus lap times—suffers.
That’s pretty much what happened at Willow Springs, where newly rip­pled pavement, sand on the track from an earth-moving project, and strong crosswinds conspired against the two-wheeled faction. The car, as the main story reflects, was better equipped to deal with those conditions. That’s the nature of racing: If we could predict winners in advance, we could all stay home and save a lot of unnecessary expense—and probably make a killing at the horse track.
Still, I can’t help feeling that the outcome would have been different if conditions had been better—or if the car hadn’t blown up and we’d been able to go through with our timed laps around the tighter Streets of Willow circuit. But maybe it’s a good thing the car fragged. It does, after all, leave the door open for a rematch. If there’s one thing I’ve learned living this close to Hollywood, it’s never to preclude a sequel. —Brian Catterson

How Different Are They Really?
The Dodge Viper GTS and the Yamaha YZF1000R may both con­vert petroleum into performance, but they follow very different trajectories to reach their targets.
Whereas the Viper relies on a tubular steel frame embedded within its body­work, the YZF1000R is based on a beefy perimeter frame made of aluminum. Heel the bike over toward its 45-degree cornering attitude at speed, apply some power, hit some bumps, and the chassis wants to twist. For handling that doesn’t scare the bejesus out of a rider—and even worse, force him to roll out of the throttle—the frame must be stiff enough to resist this. The Yamaha’s is, thanks to frame spars stamped from flat stock and welded together into large, rectan­gular sections that are welded to cast steering-head and swing-arm pivot points.
Suspension principles are the same for both vehicles—springs and hydraulic damping control suspension move­ments. The Viper’s suspension provides adjustable rebound damping, but the Yamaha’s suspension is fully adjustable, so much so that sometimes it seems easier for a novice to dial a bike like this right into weirdsville than it is to prop­erly fine-tune it.
Want to count the ways you can screw up suspension adjustment? Here goes: The fork is adjustable for spring preload, for compression damping, and for rebound damping. Additionally, the bike’s weight distribution, and its steering geometry, can be altered by changing the position of the fork tubes in the triple clamps—the alloy castings that bolt to the steering stem and carry the fork tubes. The suspension at the rear is handled by a spring-and-damper unit interposed via a rising-rate linkage between the frame and the swing arm. The suspension in each fork tube is adjustable for preload as well as for compression and rebound damping.
Whereas the Viper’s 8.0-liter push-rod V-10 uses relatively simple two­ valves-per-cylinder technology, the Yamaha’s liquid-cooled 1003cc (61 cubic inches) four-cylinder engine relies on multicam, multivalve complexity as it develops 135 horsepower at 9500 rpm on the way to its 11,500-rpm rev limit. Canted forward 35 degrees, the engine is aluminum with Nikasil bores, and it uses double-overhead cams and five valves per cylinder. It inhales through a quartet of 38-millimeter downdraft carburetors that feed the combustion cham­bers a charge squeezed by slipper pis­ tons to a compression ratio of 11.5:1. The engine’s considerable output is delivered to the rear wheel via a sequen­tially shifted five-speed, constant-mesh gearbox, a multiplate wet clutch, and an O-ring drive chain.
The high-revving YZF1000R engine offers a surprisingly broad torque curve, and one of the reasons for this can be found in its exhaust header. The header carries a power valve that is cable-actu­ated via an electric motor acting on impulses sent from throttle-position sen­sors in the carbs. At part-throttle open­ings, the valve partly closes to raise back pressure and slow mixture flow through the combustion chambers, thus enhanc­ing throttle response in the low- and mid-rpm ranges. At larger throttle openings, it’s open, providing an uninhibited flow from intake air box to exhaust can­ister.
Like the Viper GTS, the Yamaha relies on disc brakes for stopping power. But whereas the Viper’s four rotors are vented, the Yamaha’s three rotors—two up front and a single one at the rear—are solid, although they are cross-drilled for lightness. The two front calipers each use four pistons working in differential bores to help ensure equal pressure across the brake pads. At the rear there’s a single, two-piston caliper.
Obviously, the characteristic these two most clearly share is dissimilarity. They do have one thing in common, though, besides the easy capability of landing an imprudent pilot deep in trouble with the local speed cops. There are no options avail­able for either. —Jon F. Thompson

Specifications

SPECIFICATIONS
1996 Dodge Viper GTS 
VEHICLE TYPEFront-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 2-passenger, 2-door coupe
PRICE AS TESTED$72,830 (base price: $72,830)
ENGINE TYPEDOHC 20-valve V-10, aluminum block and heads, port fuel injectionDisplacement: 488 in3, 7990 cm3Power: 450 hp @ 5200 rpmTorque: 490 lb-ft @ 3700 rpm
TRANSMISSION6-speed manual
CHASSISSuspension (F/R): independent, unequal-length control arms, coil springs, anti-roll bar/independent, unequal-length control arms with a toe-control link, coil springs, anti-roll barBrakes (F/R): vented disc/vented discTires: Michelin Pilot MXX3, F: 275/40ZR-17 R: 335/35ZR-17
DIMENSIONSWheelbase: 96.2 inLength: 176.7 inWidth: 75.7 in  Height: 47.0 inCurb weight: 3415 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 4.0 sec100 mph: 11.0 sec120 mph: 13.3 secStreet start, 5–60 mph: 4.9 secTop gear, 30–50 mph: 10.5 secTop gear, 50–70 mph: 10.8 sec1/4 mile: 12.3 sec @ 115 mphTop speed: 177 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 172 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: .96 g
C/D FUEL ECONOMYObserved: 13 mpg
EPA FUEL ECONOMYCity/highway: 13/21 mpg
Yamaha YZF1000R
VEHICLE TYPEMid-engine, rear-wheel-drive, 1-passenger motorcycle
PRICE AS TESTED$9799 (base price: $9799)
ENGINE TYPEDOHC 20-valve 4-inline, aluminum block and headDisplacement: 61 in3, 1003 cm3Power: 135 hp @ 9500 rpmTorque: 80 lb-ft @ 8250 rpm
TRANSMISSION5-speed manual
CHASSISSuspension (F/R): dual coil springs and hydraulic dampers/swing arm with 1 coil-over shock and progressive-rate linkageBrakes (F/R): dual cross-drilled discs/cross-drilled discTires: Dunlop Sportmax II D204, F: 120/70ZR-17 R: 180/55ZR-17
DIMENSIONSWheelbase: 56.3 inLength: 82.1 inWidth: 29.1 in  Height: 46.3 inCurb weight: 511 lb
C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 2.6 sec100 mph: 5.6 sec120 mph: 8.2 secStreet start, 5–60 mph: 2.8 secTop gear, 30–50 mph: 3.3 secTop gear, 50–70 mph: 3.0 sec1/4 mile: 10.4 sec @ 132 mphTop speed: 154 mphBraking, 70–0 mph: 154 ft
C/D FUEL ECONOMYObserved: 32 mpg

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From the April 2005 issue of Car and Driver.
Mother Nature started her landscaping for this comparison test 275 million years ago, when she washed a bunch of quartz sand with rusty water until the grains took on a pretty red hue and then cemented them together to form sandstone bedrock. Over the ages since, she hoisted this one-time sand pile upward by 4600 feet and set about sculpting it into a lofty lump that today’s residents of Sedona, Arizona, call Chicken Point.
Not that most of them get to see this particular sample of her handiwork. Mother hid it well behind a spellbinding array of other rocks, all of which seem to have more appealing names.

2003 Toyota 4Runner SR5 V-8 4WD

Best SUVs and Crossovers of 2020

Chicken Point is hidden but not forbidden. There’s a trail — Broken Arrow — barely wide enough for one vehicle over most of its 2.1-mile length. Thrill-seeking visitors buy a ride in the Jeeps of a local tour company. But if you have a 4×4 and are willing to risk ripping the bottom out of it, you can attempt the journey yourself.
Hmm. Could we urge a six-pack of grocery getters up to Chicken Point without leaving 5W-20 slicks from savaged oil pans or embarrassing ourselves with a call for helicopter evacuation? Only one way to find out.
Exactly which SUVs? First, the all-important qualifier: The vehicles must have low and high ranges. Broken Arrow is a slow-speed trek demanding plenty of ground clearance and driver expertise.
The spring season has two all-new mainstreamer SUVs: the Jeep Grand Cherokee, now with Hemi power, and a Nissan Pathfinder built on Titan bones. Both have the climber’s swagger. Toyota’s athletic 4Runner is certainly right for the mission. The optional V-8 won’t go breathless on us at altitude. The Mitsubishi Montero has intriguing off-road capability, too, including the ability to be shifted from rear drive to all-wheel drive on the fly at speeds up to 62 mph.
From VW, the agile Touareg might be pulled down to popular prices if we stay with the standard 237-hp, 3.2-liter V-6. We’re aiming for a base sticker in the $35,000-to-$40,000 range.
What about the most ubiquitous SUV ever, 14 years as an American bestseller: the Ford Explorer? With two-wheel drive, it’s as common as dandelions. Instead, we’ll opt for AdvanceTrac full-time all-wheel drive and Roll Stability Control. The price? Uh, a blur of incentives lets you buy an Explorer right. And if these rebates were as predictable as, say, lunar cycles, we could pull them into our as-tested calculation. They aren’t. We can’t. Let’s just say we welcome Mommy’s favorite ballet bus to the climb, and if it can do a demi-plié on Chicken Point, there’ll be high-fives in PTA meetings across the land.
At the risk of getting all Lewis-and-Clark on you, we hired a geologist to accompany us. Inquiring minds want to know why the rocks of Sedona are red, and why does that redness stop just beyond the edge of town?

AARON KILEY

Geologist Wayne Ranney explains rocks as if he had baked them himself. He helped us see that the red is really just a stack of layers about 1400 feet thick, situated partway up a much taller cliff. Look northeast of Sedona: The high ground is tan. Those lighter-colored layers above the red start about a mile above sea level; they covered Sedona thousands of years ago. Blame erosion? You could, or you could enjoy the carvings it leaves behind. From two fixed points just south of town — they happen to be old volcanoes — Ranney has calculated that Sedona’s cliffscape is migrating northeast at the rate of one foot every 625 years.
The relatively soft rock — mostly sandstone — doesn’t dissolve uniformly, however. Lumps and spires are left behind for our Kodak moments — the rock equivalent of slowly melting icebergs — and they are christened with fanciful names like Courthouse and Bell Rock.
Chicken Point is a formation still hidden in the background, biding its time as the rocks in front crumble away. In a few turns of geological time it, too, will be gone.
The rocks are melting, guys. Let’s roll.

Sixth Place: Ford Explorer
A cold, early-January wind is blowing at the top, and the open-air riders on their Pink Jeep tours shiver in their heavy jackets. Darn, no heated seats in the Explorer! But we have warmth, not to mention six cup holders, a CD changer in the dash, and two rows of back seats complete with DVD movies.
And we got there, on top of Chicken Point, amazed at the view and the achievement. Mom’s runabout has moves!

Highs: The $ incentives, roomy (relatively) three-row seating, no worries about overstimulating your cardiac condition.

On the road the Explorer always maintains a certain prudent reserve; it responds slowly to the pedals and steering. Translation: boring. But needs change on the trail. That reserve becomes your friend. You can squeeze on just the right amount of power to ease over rock steps. The brakes are never grabby. If you raise the seat fully, you can see out very well over the low beltline.
Too bad you can’t raise the step bars along the sills. Did we scrape some? Only a few hundred times. On the descent, the trail passes over what Ranney calls a “talus slope,” a cascade of rocks and boulders that have fallen from above over time. On trek day they are nicely lubricated with liquid mud from recent rains. Gravity brings everything down, especially if there’s feeble traction. There was no possibility of backing up to try a different route. Gravity made the call — down! Poor Explorer! It was naked beneath, no skid plates, the only one of the group lacking them.

Lows: All-bran brown interior, odd hounds-tooth printed metal on dash.

Rocks scraped and pummeled the bottom. Sledge-hammer dentistry, that’s what it sounded like.
Watch the oil pressure! Steer the wheels over the high spots! Along in here somewhere, our usually well-modulated technical director is heard to say, “This is some sick s**t.”
At the trailhead, the Explorer simply drove away, straight to the carwash, same as all the others. Inspecting the bottom later revealed scuffs but no wounds.
The Explorer finishes our trials having earned a great deal of respect. It has the best seating accommodations of the bunch; although the low third-row cushions are not great for adults, they’re tolerable. The driver’s bucket is firm, with good thigh support for those long of leg. Acceleration was middle of the pack, with 0-to-60 in 8.2 seconds. Fuel economy averaged 14 mpg over our evaluation trip, slightly above the mean for the group.

The Verdict: Anonymity on the rocks.

Respect, yes. But lust? Sorry, Mom.
2005 Ford Explorer XLT V-8239-hp V-8, 5-speed automatic, 4815 lbBase/as-tested price: $34,675/$39,765C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 8.2 sec1/4 mile: 16.4 @ 83 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 203 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.70 gC/D observed fuel economy: 14 mpg

Fifth Place: Toyota 4Runner
This is not the expected rating for Toyota’s extremely capable SUV. Blame it on this truck’s people skills, and on the contrary packaging. The 4Runner has a high floor, not uncommon with body-on-frame construction. But why is the roof low, closer to the floor? And why the low seats, barely off the floor, down at sports-car elevation? Toyota thinks this arrangement adds sport to its sport UV.
The low roof doesn’t make entry to the second row easier, either. Once you’re seated, comfort is quite good. Hurray for cloth. It almost always feels better than leather. The result is an enveloping, no-sliding-around bench that earned our highest comfort marks for two passengers.

Highs: A dancer’s chassis muscles, well-calibrated throttle motions, disciplined V-8 noises.

The 4Runner has sophisticated machinery below. The 4.7-liter V-8 is exceptionally refined in its sounds and vibrations. The test truck had full-time four-wheel drive with a Torsen center differential that’s lockable by dash switch. Left to its own, it sends 40 percent of driving torque to the front, up to 53 percent if the rears spin, and reduces front drive to 29 percent during steering.
The suspension seems ready for every challenge. It has a surface plushness that impresses on the road, with no bouncing-bobbing in the rough. Good leg muscles. That’s the feel. And it’s there on the trail, too. The 4Runner flexes and extends over the eroded surfaces with a trained dancer’s control of motion.

Lows: Overboosted brakes, hood scoop blocks view, ugly climate controls, ridiculous location for fuel-filler door release.

Throttle calibration is perfectly ramped, too. It’s easy to get just the right torque for the task. Too bad about the nonfunctional hood scoop; as you ascend steep crests, the windshield fills with blue sky. What perils lie beyond? Dunno, the damn scoop blocks the view.
For our off-road tasks, we preferred to shut off the hill-descent control, which seemed annoyingly jerky in its interventions. The transfer-case control is a knob; your choices are H4 or L4. All very modern. Old-fashioned, however, is the way the system beeps in protest if a change is attempted in anything but neutral.
In acceleration the Toyota was second best at 15.7 seconds and 88 mph in the quarter. Braking was best of the bunch at 170 feet from 70 mph. Both on- and off-road, however, the brakes felt overboosted, particularly at low speeds.

The Verdict: Unique blend of the capable and the off-putting.

Toyota rarely flubs an assignment. But it happens.
2005 Toyota 4Runner 4WD Sport Edition237-hp V-6, 6-speed automatic, 4650 lbBase/as-tested price: $33,055/$36,771C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 7.2 sec1/4 mile: 15.7 @ 88 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 170 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.71 gC/D observed fuel economy: 13 mpg

Fourth Place: Volkswagen Touareg
The torque-and-recoil guys among us didn’t enjoy the Touareg much. It doesn’t leap in response to your nudge of the pedal. They complained about all the transmission downshifting, too. Of course, that’s the whole reason for a six-speed. But never mind.
For the record, the six-speed shifts a lot because this mid-sizer weighs in at an astounding 5235 pounds, 300 more than the next-heaviest, the Mitsubishi; 585 more than the welterweight 4Runner. One more reason: The VW’s 3.2-liter V-6 is the smallest engine of the group, 0.6 liter less than the next-up Mitsubishi and a whopping 2.5 beneath the Jeep’s Hemi.
Any further questions?

Highs: Supple long-travel suspension, amazing ground clearance, smooth moves on- and off-road, Lexus-class interior.

Given the power-to-weight burden, the VW acquits itself well, accelerating to 60 in 9.8 seconds, just 0.2 behind the Montero. The two tie for last place in the quarter at 17.3 seconds and 80 mph.
Obviously, this VW is not about brawn. Indeed, it’s the antitruck, more like a really sweet mid-size sedan on stilts. The driver’s compartment — the high, wide, and handsome console between the seats reinforces the impression of “compartment” — is cushy in all the right places. The dash has real-looking wood and finely wrought chrome detailing. At night, illumination reminds of the jewelry counter at Tiffany & Co. Just from the interior appointments you might conclude that the Touareg price should be, oh, double that of the Explorer.

Lows: Four passengers is the comfort limit, not much motor for the money, amazingly heavy at 5235 pounds.

As good as the sitting-room hospitality is, it’s arguably not the VW’s best part. The suspension and drive systems are superb. An illuminated dash icon shows which diffs (rear and center) are locked in the full-time all-wheel-drive system. Knobs in the center console let you choose six different heights with the optional air suspension. At full lift, with lots of daylight showing over the tires in the fender wells, the Touareg slinks over the boulders of Broken Arrow rather like a great silver hyena.
Inside, the rocks below seem more like pillows — that’s how good the ride is. There is also less clunking and clattering from the drivetrain than in any of the others. Instead you get electronic ruckus — the optional electric parking assistance ($600) fills the interior with flashing idiot lights and frenetic beeping as it senses rocks looming close beyond the bumpers.

The Verdict: Forget the Phaeton—this is the VW to lust after.

Oddly conflicted, this VW.
2005 Volkswagen Touareg V-6237-hp V-6, 6-speed automatic, 5235 lbBase/as-tested price: $37,755/$46,595C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 9.8 sec1/4 mile: 17.3 @ 80 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 189 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.76 gC/D observed fuel economy: 14 mpg

Third Place: Mitsubishi Montero
There’s something likable about this high-rider that’s not decipherable from the test numbers. Close finishes can be inscrutable. Surely the attraction can’t be the pug-nose front. Inside there’s a perfectly bizarre Tokyo-by-night display for HVAC — it’s blue. Nor can the appeal be caused by a tromp on the pedal; acceleration is nip and tuck with the slow-guy VW.

Highs: Sensational view forward, highchair seating, big-space mood of the cabin, easy shifting into AWD.

Subjectively, the high driving position is a winner, made even more appealing by the chair-height seats. An incredibly tall windshield gives a tour-bus view. The black leather trim of the test car produced a nicely formal mood as it contrasted with the wood-grain, most of it faux. Out of place, but appealing anyway, is the Jaguar-style wood-and-leather steering-wheel rim. Taken altogether, there’s a luxury-excursion mood playing here; one staffer sees it as a “poor man’s Land Cruiser.”
The four-wheel-drive choices seem more complex than they need to be, probably because of the curious labeling of the lever’s four positions. What you actually get is quite sensible. You can have the most-efficient-most-of-the-time rear-wheel drive, or you can send torque forward as well, through a limited-slip center differential, for all-wheel drive. For more serious going, you can also lock the center diff or change down to low range.

Lows: Overly sensitive throttle off-road, front-end styling doesn’t go with the back end, no Reebok space in row three.

Out on the rocks, the Montero took a major ratings hit with its jumpy throttle; there’s no easing it over Broken Arrow’s boulders. Questions are raised, too, by watching these SUVs perform over obstacles. The Montero spends more time with one or more wheels off the ground than the others, with the Pathfinder a close second. The Grand Cherokee and the 4Runner maintain the best contact with the ground.
From Chicken Point looking west, we had an up-close view of the two-spire formation known locally as “the nuns.” Sedona sandstone was deposited in successive layers, clearly visible. The coloring and the bonding happened underground as the soil subsided. Since then, Ranney says, the Sedona area has seen 70 million years of uplift. That makes these red rocks old compared with those at the top of Everest, which were formed by sea-level deposits 40-million years ago.

The Verdict: Oddly lovable, like the ugly mutt that keeps licking your face.

On the way down, the sound of old rocks scraping against young steel reminded that the Montero’s 8.6-inch ground clearance was only 0.1 more than the Explorer’s.
2005 Mitsubishi Montero V-6215-hp V-6, 5-speed automatic, 4935 lbBase/as-tested price: $36,424/$36,874C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 9.6 sec1/4 mile: 17.3 @ 80 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 191 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.67 gC/D observed fuel economy: 14 mpg

Second Place: Nissan Pathfinder
This Nissan, complete with leather, sunroof, three rows of seats, and a darn good music player, checked in with the lowest as-tested price of the group, $34,160. The Pathfinder is a brash looker, all slab-sided and blunt in front. There’s a bluntness in the way it behaves, too. It’s straightforwardly trucky. It’s honest.

Highs: Feels satisfyingly trucky, good power, nicely calibrated throttle, all-day seat comfort.

The 4.0-liter V-6 makes power and roaring noises with equal vigor. Acceleration is strong, leaving just a short gap behind the V-8 Toyota — 7.5 seconds to 60 versus 7.2. For passing from 50 to 70 mph, the two are tied, and they fall behind only the Hemi Jeep. Fuel economy over the 400-mile test trip topped all others at 15 mpg using premium gas. Only the Explorer uses regular.
Although the parenting class puts great value on having a third row of seats, the Pathfinder’s has limited value. Adult space is nil, and installing child seats way back there would be a contortionist exercise. So this SUV will be fine for those few soccer-shuttle years, the ones when the players can scramble back there on their own, but before they get too tall.

Lows: Lots of interior roar at speed, too many interior textures and gestures, no adult space in row three.

The Pathfinder still uses an old-fashioned part-time four-wheel-drive system that is modernized by an electronic control knob on the dash and supplemented by hill-descent control (it checks speed downhill) and hill holder (prevents roll-back when starting up slopes). Both features performed well. Nissan, as is common these days, uses the ABS hardware for traction control off-road. On one particularly tricky upslope — a loose surface with craters just right for drooping the diagonal wheels — the individual brake applications to slipping wheels seemed a bit slow to come. However, stability was good, and the climb was completed without doubts.
At Chicken Point, your testers do the obvious: stretch their legs and look at the spectacular views. On the horizon, only about four miles southwest, Ranney points out House Mountain, a shield volcano active about 14 million years ago. It’s now dotted green with trees.

The Verdict: Does it all with no significant disappointments.

Nissan claims 9.2 inches of ground clearance, best of group except for the Touareg in tip-toe mode. That wasn’t enough to avoid rocky scraping noises down the talus slope, however. But this trucky machine didn’t seem to mind.
2005 Nissan Pathfinder SE Off-Road270-hp V-6, 5-speed automatic, 4895 lbBase/as-tested price: $31,030/$34,160C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 7.5 sec1/4 mile: 15.9 @ 87 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 192 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.68 gC/D observed fuel economy: 15 mpg

First Place: Jeep Grand Cherokee
Lusty engines are big winners on these pages. The Jeep, propelled vigorously by the largest engine in the group, finished atop the ratings by a clear margin. Zero to 60 in 6.8 seconds puts this 4920-pound SUV at the front of the pack. Nothing else was close.
The Hemi makes an authoritative rumble, deep-voiced and fairly loud in a reassuring way when you crack open the throttle. The five-speed automatic also earned top marks for its smoothness and quick gear selection.

Highs: Haul-ass Hemi, superb Quadra-Drive II, carlike driving position.

The Grand Cherokee’s front seat and driving position are especially agreeable. You sit more “arms out” than in most trucks, a sharp contrast from the 4Runner and its bus-style angling of the wheel. The dash is also quite high, so your gaze needs to drop only a few degrees as it moves from road ahead to the instruments below. The hood ramps down, opening the view before you. The dash is shrewdly shaped to put the center-mounted radio and HVAC within easy reach. Taken altogether, the Jeep earned top marks for ergonomics.
Second-row passengers get a seat that feels plush at first, but the short cushion curves downward very early, as if created for short legs. The driveline tunnel is high, leaving less padding and footroom for an unfortunate center passenger.
The Jeep is the shortest of the group, one inch shorter than the Pathfinder, 3.6 inches shorter than the big-guy Montero.

Lows: We got 12 mpg, jumpy throttle off-road, Goodyear textures on dash-top and window sills.

The Grand Cherokee offers three different four-wheel-drive systems. The test sample had the top-level Quadra-Drive II with high and low ranges and electronic locking differentials at the front, center, and rear. Theoretically, at least, this is an unstoppable system, more than capable of anything we attempted.
Traction was never the limit in our going. We touched rocks against metal a lot, however, perhaps no surprise given the 8.0 inches of clearance, least of the group. Perhaps the relatively creamy on-road ride should have prepared us for the swishy, undisciplined suspension motions in the rough. Most bumps have a back side, too. Let down too fast coming off the back, and the suspension yo-yos downward farther than necessary. That risks banging something underneath.

The Verdict: Truck credibility without truck rudeness.

We see in this new Grand Cherokee a plush, fast, all-weather road car with the power and traction for incautious journeys—even to Chicken Point, if you don’t chicken out.
2005 Jeep Grand Cherokee Limited 4WD 5.7L330-hp V-8, 5-speed automatic, 4920 lbBase/as-tested price: $34,790/$40,280C/D TEST RESULTS60 mph: 6.8 sec1/4 mile: 15.3 @ 90 mphBraking, 70­–0 mph: 192 ftRoadholding, 300-ft-dia skidpad: 0.72 gC/D observed fuel economy: 12 mpg
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